


time's not healin' anything

by sxvannah



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Breakup, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:13:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxvannah/pseuds/sxvannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>-based(ish) on the song 'come wake me up' by rascal flatts (if it were a duet)<br/>-i apologize for any mistakes and there are probably a lot bc i didnt edit this<br/>-this is my first work here, so its not that great and it also might not flow well i didnt do any sort of read through<br/>-this wasnt written here so it might look wonky i dont really know how this site works<br/>-not sure if it's actually possible to overdose on aspirin<br/>-I know the overall idea is somewhat unrealistic, especially towards the end.</p></blockquote>





	time's not healin' anything

On most nights, Grantaire could avoid the pain. He filled the hole in his heart with alcohol, and on especially bad days, drugs. He'd kept himself away from everyone else for a year now.  
He and Enjolras had had a wild relationship. Weeks filled with love and sex and happiness, punctuated by terrible fights. In the end, they were too different. Enjolras, who believed in everything, who just knew that the world would change, who thought that it was possible for humans to clean up their act. Enjolras, who hated Grantaire's bad habits but somehow loved Grantaire, who drank too much and almost always had a hangover, who only listened to Enjolras so he could contradict him. Grantaire, who wanted with all his heart to truly believe that the world would change, but simply couldn't.  
He remembers every fight they ever had. Almost every one had been about his bad habits. His drinking, the time he almost overdosed on Aspirin, and once about him biting his nails(they had both been sleep-deprived and tipsy).  
It wasn't like he hadn't tried to stop. He had wanted to, so badly. But then he would do something stupid and Enjolras would lose patience and Grantaire would relapse, and honestly, the entire relationship was one gigantic fucking mess. And he'd do anything to have it back.  
It had been Grantaire who called for it to end. He knew that Enjolras would never say so, but it was evident that he was keeping Enjolras from pursuing his career as a journalist. When Enjolras almost turned down an offer to write for the New York Times, Grantaire knew that he was holding him back.  
That was the worst night of Grantaire's life. He wished he were so drunk that he didn't remember it, but he remembered every single vicious word that flew out of Enjolras' mouth and cut through Grantaire like knives.  
On most nights, Grantaire could drink away the memory and push Enjolras out of his mind.  
But on nights like tonight, Grantaire's heart hurt so badly he couldn't function. It was all he could manage to do to sit here and stare at the glaring white walls of his shithole apartment, TV blaring in front of him, city buzzing outside of his window, tears threatening to spill over his red-rimmed eyes as he prayed to a god he didn't even believe in that Enjolras would show up and hold him like he had so many times before.  
All the way across the city, in a high-rise apartment overlooking the bustling streets of the city that never sleeps, Enjolras stared down drearily.  
He thought about it often. Enjolras replayed every moment of that hellish night, imagining how differently it could have gone, and how differently he should've reacted. It was pathetic, but sometimes he pretended that he was just on a business trip and they were still together and he would be home to hold Grantaire and kiss his forehead and smooth down his unruly curls.  
Tonight, though, all Enjolras could do was stare at the blurry skyline and think about everything he did wrong. Like the time Grantaire had been upset and drank too much and Enjolras, instead of helping him through it, went to Combeferre's house for a week.  
Enjolras was very much aware that it was stupid to think about, to keep dwelling on, and he knew that Grantaire had moved on a long time ago. Enjolras knew deep down that Grantaire had probably not thought twice about their relationship after they'd broken up.  
He knew it was foolish to think that Grantaire still even thought about him, but there was a small part of him that just couldn't let go of the hope that maybe, just maybe, Grantaire was still thinking about him, still wondering what might have happened, and still wishing that they were together. He wanted nothing more than to be with Grantaire, in their kitchen again, trying to make a cake for Courfeyrac's birthday and somehow getting flour all over the floor. He just wanted to still be able to call Grantaire his.  
Grantaire moved from the couch, after what felt like an eternity. He was stupidly drunk, and in a rare burst of courage, had decided that he was going to call Enjolras, admit how he felt. He finds his cracked cell phone underneath the coffee table and punches in Enjolras' number, half of him praying he hasn't changed it and the other half wishing that he had.  
Enjolras finally loses it. He can't stand it anymore. He can't stand holding on to the hope that Grantaire may still want him, and even if he doesn't, Enjolras needs closure. He walks determinedly to his bedroom and fishes out his cell phone. He types in Grantaire's number quickly, taking a deep breath as his slender finger hovers over the Call button.  
Grantaire stares at the unchanging numbers on his screen, a million thoughts rushing through his head.  
Enjolras wonders if this will be worth it, if he's just losing sleep and wasting time pining over someone who doesn't care about him.  
Finally, Grantaire lets out a pathetic laugh, the sound filling his tiny apartment. He shakes his head and mutters under his breath, "God, what am I doing?" before throwing the phone back on the floor.  
Eventually Enjolras lets out a defeated sigh. He should keep whatever dignity he has left and put on a brave face, and let Grantaire go. "At least I have the memories," he says, a lame attempt to console himself as he places his phone back on the nightstand.  
"Jesus, Grantaire, I hope you're happy. I hope you're happy for the rest of your life. I wish I could be happy with you, but all that really matters is that you're happy," Enjolras says to his bedroom walls as he stares hopelessly at the ceiling.  
Grantaire spends the rest of the night staring at the TV, thinking that he will be happy in time, but he'd be happy now, if he only had Enjolras.

**Author's Note:**

> -based(ish) on the song 'come wake me up' by rascal flatts (if it were a duet)  
> -i apologize for any mistakes and there are probably a lot bc i didnt edit this  
> -this is my first work here, so its not that great and it also might not flow well i didnt do any sort of read through  
> -this wasnt written here so it might look wonky i dont really know how this site works  
> -not sure if it's actually possible to overdose on aspirin  
> -I know the overall idea is somewhat unrealistic, especially towards the end.


End file.
